


ADORnamEnt

by Kien Rugastelo (cein)



Series: Fai's Hair [1]
Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Hair Braiding, M/M, Non-Canon World, Vulnerability, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cein/pseuds/Kien%20Rugastelo
Summary: In which Fai really likes having his hair touched, and Kurogane really likes touching it.Set during the events of Tsubasa World Chronicle.
Relationships: Fay D. Fluorite/Kurogane
Series: Fai's Hair [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860934
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	ADORnamEnt

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first TRC fic, so I hope I didn't butcher them too badly, but have you SEEN Fai's hair?

In retrospect, Kurogane should have trusted Fai just a little more. The man was no longer shy about his magic, nor did he hold that lingering death wish in the back of his mind. Kurogane should have known Fai had something up his sleeves when he’d let himself be captured, or when he’d let the locals doll him up, or when he’d gone quietly onto the palanquin without so much of a fight and let them carry him up the volcano. Kurogane should have stayed in the shadows and watched until Fai signaled for him — there was no way Fai had not deliberately avoided glancing his way this whole time, no way Fai was not as distinctly aware of Kurogane’s presence as he was of Fai’s — believed that if Fai needed rescuing, he would have damn well let Kurogane know about it, or at the very least, fought tooth and nail for his own survival.

If he had trusted just a bit more, Kurogane would not have drank that damnable potion to help him withstand the fumes at the peak — one that made his pulse race and his skin itch — would not have come in guns blazing when the locals crested the crater. Fai could have executed the planned illusion without a hitch, could have freed the volcano god from the hex it had become entangled in quietly and without a fuss, could have ended the cycle of the locals from feeding more young folks into the hole in an attempt to appease their god only for the deaths to make the hex more powerful and speed up the reaction. And then, they could have secreted away after, with no one the wiser and not one scratch. In the end, they ended up having to fight both the locals and the god, while the volcano was on the brink of erupting and while Kurogane thought his teeth may well vibrate straight out of his skull.

They had achieved the same result in the end, far more exhausted and filthy that they would have been if Kurogane had just waited, but Kurogane had lost so many people precious to him before, and he would not sit idly by while someone he already gave a whole arm for got tossed in a volcano.

Still, the lecture Fai paid him when all was said and done was deserved, a sharp quick stream of words that lasted most of the (long, rocky, and in Kurogane’s case, bit unsteady) climb back down, followed by some simmering as Fai, too, tried to force the tension of the fight out of his system. Kurogane thought at one point, Fai might have taken one of the dozens of hairpins that were holding his hair in a complicated, ornate arrangement and jabbed Kurogane in the artificial arm with it, but the man had held back. “I’ll take it out in the morning,” Fai had lamented once they’d made it back to their accommodations and were preparing to bathe, “If I try messing with it now, I’ll probably just make it worse.”

Kurogane had been dubious, but didn’t say anything about it at the time, more focused on scrubbing the soot off his skin and hoping to take the twitching with it. It didn’t work and if it hadn’t been for the fact that the potion had worked and Kurogane’s lungs were undamaged, he might have gone back into town to kill the mage who had prepared it. It wasn’t until they were both clean and redressed, and Fai had flopped bonelessly onto the futon, only managing to get half his body on the actual pad, that Kurogane paused long enough to consider the mess that Fai’s hair was.

A few hours ago, it had been as carefully coiffed as any noble’s hair in Tomoyo’s court, with enough gold and gems on the adornments that Kurogane thought he may have been able to buy the whole damn island outright with them, but he’d settle for a boat so they could make it back to the mainland where Syaoran and Mokona were waiting. Now it was reduced to a tangled mess, perched like a bird’s nest on top Fai’s head, and Kurogane could understand why Fai hadn’t even wanted to deal with it without getting some sleep first — it wasn’t as though it would get any worse, with Fai laying on his stomach, face pillowed in his folded arms — but the extra weight would be heavy and after everything, the last thing he wanted was to hear Fai complain of a sore neck in the morning.

That settled things and Kurogane settled down cross-legged by Fai’s head. After a bit of careful poking around, Kurogane managed to pull out a couple straight pins without disturbing the veritable rats nest on Fai’s head. As he began to reach the more complicated pieces, Kurogane found himself relying more increasingly on touch than sight to determine where and how each piece was snagged, and how best to free it. It was tedious and slightly frustrating, but the stimulant in his system wasn’t going to be letting Kurogane sleep any time soon anyway. Besides, having something to do with his hands seemed to help the almost anxious energy coursing through his system — it had nothing at all to do with the regret Kurogane felt at having thrown a wrench into Fai’s plans, nothing to do with how deeply he cared for him, nothing to do with how sensitive he knew that scalp was and how tender it would likely be when all was done.

It was not long before he had worked his way down to the pieces resting against Fai’s scalp. Kurogane was dimly aware of the way his blunt fingernails occasionally scratched against Fai’s head, of the way Fai’s breathing had deepened, of how those shoulders finally began to relax with only the burden of supporting the mage’s natural head alone instead of kilos of precious metals.

And Kurogane was acutely aware of the small sounds Fai made each time something ran against his scalp, how even in sleep, he pressed his head into the sensation like a cat being scratched, how much trust Fai was showing him right now to not absolutely ruin his hair. It wouldn’t take much, a part of Kurogane acknowledged, for him to just bring his hands together and squeeze, or to reach down and crack a vertebrae — as a ninja, such thoughts were never too far from his mind. Fai, however, was apparently not at all concerned about such possibilities, and Kurogane wondered at that fact, fingers now only idly roving along the back of Fai’s head and neck, searching out any small pieces that he may have missed and finding none, definitely only attempting to be thorough and not enraptured by the open, simple pleasure Fai was expressing even in sleep at the sensation of having his hair so carefully tended to.

The affection swelled in his chest and Kurogane leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Fai’s temple, remaining still as Fai sighed softly, settling more deeply into the pillow of his arms. His hair was long free of accessories, now only knotted up in such a way Kurogane doubted even a sailor could undo. Well, Kurogane decided as he reached across to grab Fai’s brush, if he didn’t want to listen to Fai bitch about a sore neck from sleeping with all that shit in his hair, he certainly didn’t want to hear him bitch about having sore arms from the effort it took to brush it all out. With no thought to prolong the (intimate, precious) process of fixing Fai’s hair, Kurogane freed a few locks of hair, brushing carefully to free the ends first and work his way up until he had to free more of the trapped hair to continue. If he was gentle, it was certainly only not to receive an earful later of the damage he had done in his attempts to help, not to preserve the silky way the tresses moved through his fingers, not to avoid possibly irreparably chipping at the shafts that made up the hair Fai took such pride in.

The world outside was beginning to lighten again by the time Kurogane had worked his way back up to Fai’s scalp, and a part of Kurogane was surprised at that fact. Surely he had not been attending to Fai’s hair the entire night, had not allowed the familiar motions to sink him into a serene, almost trance-like state as he worked diligently. But the evidence was there just the same, strengthened by the chittering birdsong coming through the windows, and Fai’s hair now ran along half the length of his spine, salvaged and tangle-free. It was obviously only so that Kurogane would not have to suffer seeing his hard work undone that he began parting locks again, weaving them together into a plait. He certainly was not doing so because he had not quite had his fill of touching Fai’s hair, not because there was endearment sitting warm in his gut that he was even trusted to do this, that Fai would fall so deeply asleep without complaint, vulnerable — content, even. He had long worked past the lingering twitchiness of his limbs, soothed even against the lingering tweaking feeling of the village witch’s brew in his system.

Eventually, Fai’s hair was braided, carefully and securely — strands even only so that Fai could not mock him for it when he woke up, and not at hoping to secure the prospect of being allowed to do so again someday — and Kurogane was not waiting long before Fai stirred, stretching not unlike a cat. “Kuro-tan,” came the bleary, questioning croak as Fai rubbed at an eye, possibly wondering at why Kurogane was sitting up awake and not as dead to the world as Fai himself had been not moments ago, hand then habitually reaching back to run through his hair, only to find it mostly flat against his head. Fai’s eyes closed briefly in confused concentration then, as he ran his hand back and around, pulling the end of the braid forward into his vision for inspection. Kurogane could see the wheels turning in Fai’s head as his brain kicked into a higher gear, wonderment, realization, and mischievous joy passing across his features in turn, before Fai turned his smile up at Kurogane for the first time that day.

“What?” Kurogane huffed, crossing his arms and looking away, not trying to preserve his dignity at all by hiding the blush on his cheeks.

Fai huffed a soft laugh, pulling himself up to a seated position in one fluid motion. “You’re sweet,” he intoned, closer to Kurogane’s ear than Kurogane was willing to acknowledge, before kissing his cheek. (Kurogane’s flush did most certainly not deepen then, did not reach to the tips of his ears, did not speed up the pulse that had only barely slowed in the hours since this whole incident reached a crest.) “You didn’t have to stay up for that.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kurogane grumbled, not embarrassed and awkward at all, “Potion hasn’t worn off.”

The corner of Fai’s mouth turned downward, and Kurogane let him reach through him with his magic, reading the effects of the spell through the reactions of Kurogane’s body in a way Kurogane was determined to believe was not just as intimate as what he himself had just done. The soft, pressing sensation faded as quickly as it had began, and Fai breathed a soft sigh. “You should have told me.”

Kurogane shrugged. “Not like you could have done anything.”

Fai reached forward, pressing against Kurogane’s cheek with one hand to coax his head around to face him, at which point Kurogane found his face cradled in Fai’s palms. “Just because I can’t use healing magic doesn’t mean I can’t help,” Fai admonished without bite, and whatever Kurogane would have said was swallowed down when Fai’s lips pressed against his own, firm but chaste, and finally,  _ finally _ , the draw of sleep was licking at the edges of his mind, drawing him down, down, like Fai’s hands were presently doing until Kurogane’s head rested on his lap. “Sleep, Kuro-pii,” Fai murmured, brushing some hair away from Kurogane’s forehead, “Let me take watch this time.”

Kurogane only had the presence of mind to nod before he was whisked away into slumber, deep and vulnerable and safe as scarred hands danced around his face, casting a spell that had once taken down a king. And if it was Fai’s lips that brushed Kurogane’s temple this time, then maybe it was not so bad that Kurogane could feel the gentle touch even in his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Kurogane soon picks up crochet because Syaoran is from a desert and gets cold too easily and it's much easier to make something that fits than buy it and CERTAINLY not because having something to do with his hands when Fai's hair is Already Braided is Soothing and he's trying not to have a stress-born aneurysm, dammit.


End file.
